


Dilios' Tale

by madwriter223



Category: 300 (2006)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2253726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwriter223/pseuds/madwriter223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Dilios became a Spartan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dilios' Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Written after the first movie.
> 
> I noticed during the movie that Dilios didn't exactly look Spartan. I don't know, his coloring seemed more Arcadian. Thus this little bunny was born.

There once was a child. It travelled many lands, all alone in the wilderness of our world. It sought help and protection from others only at the beginning of its journey, but as they turned their uncaring backs on him, he turned his own on them.

He travelled long and he travelled restlessly, this small child, too small to even wield a spear. Starved, freezing, ill, he still marched on, blindly heading towards a destination he could not see nor hear.

Then one day, he ventured into a rocky forest, and in it he found a sight most peculiar. On a meadow, many young boys were gathered, fighting amongst themselves while a group of trainers watched.

The Spartan _agoge_.

The sight was so new to it, so odd, that the child stopped and watched. It watched as victims fell and their victors triumphed. It watched as two fought, only to have a third make them both fall.

It stood there and watched, for the longest time.

Eventually, one of the young warriors noticed the child. He moved towards it, slowly as one would approach a wild animal. He stared at this odd creature, its bloodied feet, its bloodless face and the wildness in its eyes. The young warrior took hold of its hands, with a gentleness uncommon in a Spartan even that young, and started rubbing the frigid fingers, urging the blood to flow freely again.

The child stood and watched, drinking in the face and touch of the first kind soul it met in its tiring path. It stood unmoving, staring with its wide eyes, and vowed to itself the face of this boy would never be forgotten from its mind.

One of the trainers noticed them and chased the young warrior away. He then gathered the child into his arms, lifting it off the freezing ground and took it to the city. To Sparta, where its fate would be decided.

The child was small and weak. It would not speak of what it had survived. It would not name those that had bred him. It would not tell where it came from. So the elders in their wisdom decided to end the child's plight, not deeming it worthy of the name 'Spartan'.

But the child, puny and starved, would not allow its life to be ended. It clawed at their eyes, it bit at their fingers, it gripped the spears and swords that were aimed at its body. It fought bravely and for the longest time, as long as its weak body could stand.

Before it could fall, before its strength could leave it and make it an easy kill, one man stepped forward, calling the men to a halt.

The King.

He crouched before the child, looking deep into its wild eyes. _I will not die today_ they screamed. _I will not let you harm me_ its hard expression howled. _I will fight you_ its tight fists called.

And the King smiled at the child. Smiled and patted the child's matted hair. The King proclaimed to all those listening that this child from a foreign land has proven himself worthy of being a Spartan.

And a Spartan the boy became.


End file.
